Chapter 6 - Hagrid's Lament

Chapter 6 – Hagrid's Lament

'Please, Headmistress. There's got ter be another way!'

Hagrid, the Hogwarts Groundskeeper, was looking down at Minerva McGonagall, distress written all over his huge, bushy face. He was wringing his impossibly large hands together, each as big as dustbin lids, in anguish.

'I'm sorry, Hagrid,' Minerva answered, her voice firm but with a note of compassion in it nonetheless. 'This is in the Ministry's hands now. We cannot jeopardise the school by housing these animals in the Forbidden Forest any longer.'

'But they ain't hurtin' no-one! Look at 'em! They're wild animals! They shouldn' be caged up like that!' Hagrid argued, pointing passionately as the man from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures huffed and puffed, lugging cage after cage of Augureys on to the back of his truck. The Augureys, whilst usually sorrowful-looking birds, seemed more mournful than ever, huddled up together on their perches, their greenish-black feathers ruffled. Now and then, they would cry dolefully, and Hagrid suspected it had little to do with the impending rain clouds which were gathering overhead.

'I'm sorry,' Minerva said again, a little harder this time. 'There's nothing we can do.'

'He's... He's gonna kill 'em, ain't he?' Hagrid asked roughly, his voice breaking as he fished for his tablecloth-sized spotted handkerchief from his jacket pocket.

Minerva patted Hagrid's arm awkwardly in an attempt at a comforting gesture, but didn't answer the gamekeeper.

'Poor, innocent birds,' Hagrid choked. 'N-Never done no harm to no-one,' he stuttered, tears leaking from his crinkly, beetle-black eyes.

'There, there, Hagrid,' Minerva replied briskly. 'I know how hard this is for you. But we have to obey the Ministry. We just have to hope to Merlin that the scare will blow over quickly, unlike the whole Nogtail farce,' she sniffed. 'I am sure there will be Augureys in the Forbidden Forest again soon once the hullabaloo has subsided.'

Hagrid seemed to be placated by this and blew his nose thunderously into his vast handkerchief, as they both watched the man from the Ministry stow the last Augurey cage on the back of the truck and walk slowly towards them.

The Ministry official was wearing goggles, a mask that covered his mouth and nose, and a robe that looked to be made out of plastic. 'I won't come too close,' he called to them cheerfully. 'Best to be safe. Think that's the lot of them. Had to get rid of the nests as well, see, in case other Augureys decide to set up home.'

The birds, which were looking more despondent than ever in their cages, wailed forlornly behind him.

'If you see any others in the Forest, mind, you call the Ministry straight away,' he continued. 'I'm just going to use a quick Tergeo spell on you both now. Not that you're at risk, because you haven't handled them. But you can never be too safe!'

After performing the spell on Hagrid and Minerva, and some brief words of thanks from the Headmistress, the man from the Ministry gave them both a friendly wave before boarding his truck and starting the engine.

'Well, I think this calls for a wee dram of Firewhisky, don't you?' Minerva asked crisply as she and Hagrid watched the truck slowly trundle across the grounds before disappearing from view. 'I always keep a bottle in my office in case of emergencies. And, Merlin knows, this has to be one of the worst emergencies I've seen in recent years.'

Hagrid, touched by Minerva's offer of hospitality, dutifully followed the stern Headmistress across the chilly, deserted winter grounds of Hogwarts in silence and on through the maze of corridors in the ancient castle. The students had been sent home the previous evening after Kingsley Shacklebolt's decree was announced in the Prophet that all Augureys inhabiting areas of Wizarding population would be "removed" with immediate effect, which meant that the castle was just as deserted as the grounds. It felt unnatural for the castle, which usually thrummed with activity and increasing anticipation as the Christmas holidays drew ever nearer, to be so still, and the shimmering Christmas decorations in the Great Hall looked somehow forlorn without the throng of excited pupils to marvel at them.

Hagrid followed a weary Minerva slowly up the winding spiral staircase that led to her office and through the old oak door. He somehow managed to squeeze himself into a plush, red armchair, noticing yesterday's Daily Prophet still lying on her desk.

'S'not right, though,' Hagrid grunted as Minerva busied herself with conjuring two crystal tumblers of Firewhisky out of thin air and sending one soaring towards the Gamekeeper. 'Augureys naturally avoid humans. Shacklebolt didn't 'ave ter get rid of 'em like that.'

Minerva took a healthy sip of Firewhisky before replying. 'The Ministry had to be seen to be doing something, Hagrid. I can't say I agree with sending pupils home unnecessarily and disrupting their education.' Minerva pursed her lips in disapproval. 'However, prevention is better than cure. Three more un-named people were taken to St. Mungo's yesterday, one of which was another Ministry employee! I had no choice in the matter.' The Headmistress looked at Hagrid with a pained expression now. 'You understand, don't you?'

Hagrid nodded sadly and then drained his shot of Firewhisky as if it were water. 'Course I do. Just doing yer job. Woulda been uproar if yer refused. And if one of the students got ill...' He trailed off. He didn't have to finish the sentence. The thought was too horrific to even contemplate.

'Who do yer think it is?' Hagrid asked Minerva as she refilled his tumbler to the brim this time. 'The Ministry fella who got taken to the hospital yesterday?' He was trying to keep his composure, but Minerva could see his bottom lip quivering. 'I keep thinking, if it was Harry, Ron, or Hermione, I don't know what I'd do with meself.' Hagrid's voice broke, and he fumbled once more with his huge spotted handkerchief.

'We shouldn't speculate, Hagrid,' Minerva replied quietly. 'The Prophet will release names in due course. But for now, we just have to hope the Ministry have got their pandemic plans right this time. The reports say that so far, everyone who has been admitted to St. Mungo's has responded to the potions. Although, being kept all cooped up in the hospital quarantine ward can't be much fun.'

Hagrid stared glumly at his Firewhisky. 'S'pose the Prophet would report it straight away if one of them three got ill,' he mused, swilling the amber liquid around the glass.

'Exactly,' Minerva agreed with a sense of finality and downed the rest of her Firewhisky without as much as a wince.

* * *

Throughout December, life at the Potters' carried on regardless amidst the drama of the unfolding Augurey Flu scare. Ginny had decided that one of the advantages of Harry, Ron and Hermione working at the Ministry of Magic was that they often heard the facts before anyone else. For example, the Potters had discovered that the second Ministry official to be admitted to St. Mungo's was an old, methodical kind of wizard called Humphrey Harbottle, who worked within the Department for Magical Games and Sports and responsible for co-ordinating the British Gobstones League. Harry had told Ginny once that a practical joke played on Humphrey had gone down in comedy legend when a junior clerk had swapped a set of his regulation Gobstones for Dungbombs during the finals of BGL Cup a few years ago.

But, Ginny had to admit that Shacklebolt's pandemic plans seemed to be working so far, and the illness seemed to be contained. It didn't stop her worrying about her friends and family at the Ministry, however. The news of Hogwarts pupils being sent home and the Augureys being taken away from the Forbidden Forest had saddened her, too, and she vowed to herself that she and Harry would try and find time over the Christmas holidays to pay Hagrid a little visit with the kids to cheer him up.

She herself was currently at home in Godric's Hollow writing Christmas cards whilst listening to the WWN. The familiar sounds of Celestina Warbeck's All I Want For Christmas (Is A New Broomstick) and the smell of freshly-made mince pies was making her feel quite festive, and she was soon singing along as she scribbled away at the cards with her bright pink quill.

'Mummy?'

A small, tired voice interrupted Ginny from her card-writing. Standing before her was her youngest son, Al, who looked as pale as a ghost with dark circles around his bright green eyes. Any Christmas cheer she had been feeling evaporated instantly at the sight of him.

'Al, are you okay?' Ginny's forehead creased in worry; he looked absolutely dreadful. She got up and knelt in front of him, feeling his forehead. It was on fire; he clearly had a raging temperature. His small body shook as he sneezed, and he looked pitifully up at his mother, swaying slightly from the effort of standing up.

'Mummy... I don't feel very well,' was the last thing Al managed to murmur before he fell forwards and collapsed in his mother's arms.